In 1974, I was 13 and spent my summer vacation with my best friend and his parents at a campsite in Bavaria. Unfortunately, after just a week, I became constipated and developed a terrible stomach ache.
Mrs P, my friend’s mother, contacted the campsite’s female manager (everyone called her ‘Aunt Maria’) to ask for a paediatrician, because she thought I might have appendicitis.
Aunt Maria was herself a retired district nurse in her 60s. She was a typical country woman – strong stature, big breasts, an authoritative appearance and with a blunt way of speaking. That said, she was a good-hearted person, even if you were a bit scared and frightened by her appearance.
Aunt Maria immediately recognised my symptoms as constipation. She took both myself and Mrs P upstairs to her own private bathroom, then told Mrs P to strip me.
I was shocked and embarrassed to have to be nude in front of two strangers, so I resisted and said I was feeling better. Mrs P seem baffled but Aunt Maria took the initiative. She gave me two slaps on my bottom, and warned me that if I didn’t co-operate, there would be more and firmer smacks.
Within minutes, I was totally naked and crying. Aunt Maria handed me a towel, which I tied around my hips to hide my private parts. While Aunt Maria looked for some items in the bathroom, Mrs P hugged and tried to comfort me.
After Aunt Maria had collected everything, she placed a chair in the middle of the room and sat down.
“So, young man,” she said, “now it gets serious – now I need the towel…” Before I knew it, and with the help of Mrs P, Aunt Maria had taken the protection of the towel away from my body and placed it on her own lap.
Mrs P led me over to Aunt Maria, placing me over her lap, while the latter declared that she now had to ‘wash my stomach from the inside’.
I was really scared by now and tried to get away, but Aunt Maria had me in a tight grip and after four more sharp smacks to my bottom, it was clear to me who the boss was. I got the enema while I cried and sobbed.
To reassure and distract me during the procedure, the women sang to me some well-known nursery school songs. Aunt Maria occasionally accompanied the singing with some further light, rhythmic smacks on my bare bottom, telling me: “If you behave like a little child, you get the treatment like a little child.”
After the enema, Mrs P praised me for being a brave little boy. From Aunt Maria, I got a jar of preserved plums. With a knowing wink to Mrs P, she added: “We know what those are good for!”
Even though the incident was not really a conventional spanking, I still remember the situation today with a smile. I’m still not sure which was the most embarrassing aspect of the incident – being naked, having the enema, the nursery songs or Aunt Maria smacking my bottom!